


Daylight

by Tak138



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Femdom, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Mistress, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29751192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tak138/pseuds/Tak138
Summary: Selene gets some visitors. Eli, as expected, has a rough go of it.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	Daylight

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody! Just a bit of a continuation here. Won't be very long, probably 3 chapters max. 
> 
> Also I haven't given up on SCOS. The 40th chapter is already halfway written, I just needed a break. 
> 
> Thank you to Vill for beta-ing.

The sound of birds chattering outside pulled him from the depths of sleep. Groaning, Eli dragged the pillow over his face, willing himself to fall back into the lulling depths of sleep. These days, it was as though there weren't enough hours in the night. No amount of sleep was ever enough. Be it two hours or twelve, his bones were always leaden, his muscles wound tight and his eyes bleary. Selene always waved away his apologies, insisting he was just making up for lost time, but Eli knew he was only getting lazy.

Out of habit, he reached across the mattress, finding the other side empty and cold. His eyes shot open, a fist of ice-cold panic gripping his heart. Then he recognized the soft, clean sheets, the scent of mothballs tickling his nose, and slumped with relief. 

Oliver woke before him more often than not, he should be used to waking alone by now. But he wasn't, and every morning was punctuated by some degree of momentary panic as his body forgot where they were. 

Tossing the pillow to the side, Eli grumbled as he pushed himself from bed. As much as he longed to hide away, today was not the day for such things. The floor warm against the soles of his feet, he made the bed, pulled the comforters up, rearranged the pillows, folded the woolen throw Oli favored and tossed it over the foot, along with the two stuffed animals he adored so much. 

The loft of Selene's cottage was far bigger than they needed, but Selene had insisted they take the larger of the two bedrooms. The first week had been spent gutting the rooms of old, moth-eaten furniture, and swapping the fixtures of the rooms. The dresser and desk Selene had claimed, well worn and obviously favored, and with his help they had placed them in the room downstairs. The only things she had abandoned was the bed, a four poster monstrosity with a white linen canopy and curtains than Oliver loved to hide in, and the towering armoire bolted to the wall to keep it from toppling. From said armoire, Eli pulled a fresh tunic and trousers from the dresser. The smooth fabric slid over his skin, buttery and silken, far better than anything he had ever touched before. Though that was the case for most things, nowadays.

Eli allowed himself a moment in front of the standing mirror to put himself in order. He tucked the shirt into his pants, grey-blue against a rich, endless black, rolling up his sleeves to his mid forearm. Showing off the barest hint of the muscles he had just begun developing. From the little table to the mirror's right, he opened a red velvet box, and from it drew two silver hair pins. Gifts from Selene for the solstice, just a few weeks ago. They were new enough that he held them reverently, two long tines each marked with a single red stone, delicately winding his hair up and pinning in place.

_ Not bad _ , he thought to himself, as he adjusted the front of his shirt,  _ not bad at all _ . But as his eyes met those in the mirror, Eli found himself wrinkling his nose. He reached out a hand, pressed it to the smooth glass, covering his face. Hidden beneath the shirt and form-hugging pants, his body looked better than it ever had. If he could somehow remove his face from the equation, or rearrange his features just so, he might actually pass for handsome. 

With a huff, he reached for the table's single drawer, and hesitated, the brass handle quickly warming against his skin. Was it appropriate? For Selene, yes. She enjoyed it when he used cosmetics, he could see it in her eyes, despite her denial. For company, on the other hand? Eli swallowed, tapping his nail against the dark wood. Fuck, he had no idea. For all his questions, he'd forgotten to ask about this one thing.

It was likely better to appear well put-together than not, he decided. If Selene didn't like it, she would tell him.

From the drawer he pulled out several small jars of pigments, black, red, and a creamy brown. All quietly purchased at his request. Selene hadn't questioned him, hadn't even blinked, when he'd asked. He'd expected her to huff a bit, maybe give him a look of displeasure. Only whores used cosmetics, at least in his mind. Selene never bothered. She didn't need to.

He did. Ignoring the brushes in favor of his fingers, he applied a touch of the skin-colored pigment beneath his eyes, disguising the dark circles that never seemed to fade. The red went to his lips, his cheeks and his nose, giving him a much more rosey and healthy look than he'd ever managed naturally. The kohl powder went across his eyelids, serving to make him appear more awake, make his eyes shine just a bit brighter.

"Okay," Eli said to himself, swallowing the anxious lump in his throat as he took himself in. "Okay. That's better. That's—that's fine."

Unable to help himself, he tugged a few hairs out of the twist and straightened them with his fingers, encouraging them to frame his face. Again, better, but so far from good. He forced himself to turn away in favor of stalking to the window and thrusting it open. Immediately, the sharp, chilled air brushed against his face, soothing his aching nerves. He'd stand in front of the mirror all day if he let himself. 

Outside, the sun shined high in the sky. Water dripped from the roof into a puddle down below, and Eli could see the entire pasture beyond was little more than muddied snow and pools of melted ice. 

Selene's cottage sat on a large swath of land, far larger than any house of this size needed. When they had first arrived, they'd been on her land for an hour before he'd known it. Far-Bird Moore, she called it, the fields beyond. An old name, butchered through a handful of translations, and yet Eli found it oddly… sweet. 

Off in the distance, he could make out Butterfly's shape near the barn, the same stormy blue of his tunic. Despite himself, despite the fuzziness of his head, Eli found himself smiling. The air smelled of snow and cedar smoke, the sky open and cloudless. Everything was going to be fine, he just needed to settle himself. 

He left the window open to clear the loft of its endless stuffiness, and made his way down the narrow staircase that took him into the main living area. He found Selene perched near the wood stove, stoking the fire, with Oliver perched on the nearby sofa nursing a glass of milk. 

"Good morning, Papa!" His son chimed, enraptured as he watched Selene work. Another part of him settled, his hackles smoothing over. 

Still smiling, Eli ruffled his son's hair and said, "Good morning to you too, Sunshine. Are you being a good boy for Miss Selene?"

_ Miss Selene. _ It was their compromise, found ground between the two of them. He couldn't say her name so blatantly, not yet, not while their ownership was still fresh, still foreign. But she all but recoiled everytime he called her  _ Miss. _ A wall between them that hadn't existed before all of this. She wanted him to use her name, but he couldn't abandon the honorific without losing the ability to breathe. So, Miss Selene. Oliver took to it just fine, thank the gods. There had been something quietly sickening, slick and oily, about hearing his son say  _ yes Miss, please Miss, no Miss.  _ It reminded him far too much of Lydia. 

Miss Selene wasn't much better, in retrospect, but it was good enough for now. 

Oliver nodded emphatically, kicking out his little legs. "She let me feed Butterfly!" 

Eli snorted a bit, but his humor dimmed as he looked to Selene. "Any word?" He asked softly. 

Selene glanced at him over a shoulder, her hair braided into a neat line down her back. "Not yet. Their last letter said to expect them approaching high noon."

He bit his lip, eyes flicking to the old grandmother clock against the wall. Ten-thirty. 

_ Shit. _

Catching his gaze, Selene's own softened. She approached, took his hand in hers. "I encourage you to soothe yourself," she said, in that gentle-yet-stilted way of hers, "You are in no danger. They are my friends, my kin. They will take to you just as I have." 

He wet his lips, unable to bring himself to meet her eye. He should be happy for her. Even in exile, her sisters-in-arms still cared for her, enough to come and visit all the way out in the countryside. And yet all he could think about was Oliver, of Lydia's intent to make him a whore. 

"I know, I'm sorry," he managed. 

Lips quirking to the side, Selene brushed a loose lock of hair behind his ear. She looked as though she might press further and then thought better of it, saying instead, "You look very handsome."

As he always did under her praise, Eli blushed bright cherry red. "Thanks," he said, and it came out rougher than he intended. 

  
  
  


For the better part of an hour, Eli fussed over the decor. Straightening out the table runner, examining the glassware for any hint of dirt. Selene told him to settle down more than once, but he couldn't sit still for more than a second without vibrating with nervous energy. 

They were to act as servants, not slaves. Or rather, he was. Oliver was to stay close to his side or upstairs in their room, whichever he chose, while Eli waited within calling distance. He didn't need to wait on them hand and foot, Selene had affirmed, these women were soldiers, they could pour their own wine. He would only be necessary for larger things, like retrieving a fresh bottle. Or, she had added after a long, agonizing second, if they had any questions for him. Her friends were kind hearted, respectful and diligent, but they were curious. They might have questions for the man she had taken house with. Selene had punctuated the last statement with a wink, and he had flushed daylily pink. 

When there was nothing else to do, nothing else to fiddle with or rearrange or inspect, Eli just set himself on the couch next to his son. Oliver only curled up against him, under his arm, and sat with him without complaint. Truly, he was too good for this world. Oliver and Selene both. He didn't deserve either of them. 

A hand touched his shoulder, Eli flinching hard enough that Oliver clung to him a little tighter. 

It was only Selene, her brows tight, her thumb rubbing a gentle circle into his taut muscle. "Would you prefer to stay upstairs for the evening?" 

"I'm fine," he denied swiftly, "I am, I promise. Just—just nervous." 

"You have no need," assured Selene. Oliver looked at her then, and she gave him a soft smile. In a quiet voice, she told them, "I would never let harm come to either of you. I swear it on my blood. My sisters will not hurt you, they will not disrespect you. This is your home as it is mine."

Eli had to swallow, a lump welling in his throat. He rested his hand on hers, squeezing just a bit. "Thank you," he rasped, "I… thank you." 

There was nothing else he could say. 

At his side, Oliver bit his lip, "Do I gotta stay down here too?" 

"You can stay with your father if you like," Selene said, endlessly patient, "Or you can play upstairs. It is your choice."

To no one's surprise, Oliver latched onto his side, fisting the fabric of his shirt. "I wanna stay with Papa," he declared, a nervous edge to his voice. Selene smiled, just the barest curl of her lips.

"As you wish."

  
  
  


Selene heard the rumble of hooves well before he did, inclining her head to the south, towards the road. 

"They're here," she declared. Eli took a deep breath, rising from his spot on the couch and smoothing down the front of his shirt. Oliver was quick to follow, clinging to his side like he might try to vanish behind his legs. 

Selene left to greet her friends, leaving the door open in her wake. A silent command to follow. But Eli took his son's hand in his own and crouched before him. 

"Are you sure you don't want to play upstairs?" He offered softly. 

"I wanna stay with you Papa. Please?" He whimpered, looking at him with wide, frightened eyes. Eli couldn't help the way his heart broke, as he brushed some of Oliver's hair from his face. It seemed to grow more blond everyday, closer to his mother's. Biting at his lip, Oli rocked on his heels, staring at the ground. 

"What is it, Sunshine," he whispered, cupping his son's face, "What's wrong?"

Oliver sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his arm. "Is—is Miss Selene gonna get rid of us if we're bad."

His heart sunk to the floor, low and cold. "No," rasped, "No, Sunshine, that won't happen."

"But.. if we're bad…" 

"Nothing's going to happen," Eli found himself saying, "We're safe. Miss Selene will always keep us safe, she promised."

Oliver looked at their joined hands, eyes as wide as saucers. "Then why are you so scared?" 

He winced. It was so easy to forget how smart Oliver was, how observant. He didn't speak much, at least not around Selene, but not much got past him. Eli swallowed, gnawed on the inside of his cheek. There were things he hid from his son, many things, but he tried to be honest where he could. It wouldn't do either of them any good if Oliver thought him a liar. 

"Bad thoughts," said Eli, at length. He fiddled with one of the buttons on Oliver's tunic, something he'd picked out for himself the night before. "You know how you get scared when someone gets too loud? Or moves too quickly? Even if it's me?" 

A little nod. 

"It's like that. I don't… I don't think anything bad will happen, but I think of what has happened and… it's easy to be frightened."

Oliver rocked on his heels, clasping his hands behind his back. To the ground, he said, "I like it here. Better than—than where we were before. Miss Selene is nicer than Miss Lydia." 

It should have been a nice sentiment, should have made Eli smile. Instead, it made his insides curdle like spoiled milk. Yes, it was much nicer here. Neither of them went hungry, Eli never vanished for hours on end only to come back battered and bruised. He never found Oliver hiding in the closet, shaking, struck silent by whatever horror he'd witnessed. 

No one hit them. No one screamed at them, or called them names, or threatened to leave them out in the snow. Selene was kind, respectful. She gave them space, did not demand anything of them that she would not do herself. 

And yet that was so little, so miniscule. If they'd lived normal lives, if they'd been free, they wouldn't have even thought about it. She treated them so incredibly well for slaves, but had they been free, had they been  _ people _ , it would have been nothing at all. 

"So do I," he whispered, and glanced over his shoulder. "C'mon, Sunshine. We shouldn't keep them waiting." 

He made towards the door, but Oliver stayed put. When Eli glanced at him over his shoulder, Oliver reached out with both arms. 

"Please?" He whispered, voice so small. Eli's throat tightened. He should say no, should tell him _you're too big for this._ But all he could think about was little Oli, three years old, springing into his arms and clinging to him with endless desperation after Eli had finished work for the day. His son had been trembling, whimpering, and clung to him until well into the night. It was the first time Eli ever suspected someone had hurt his boy, and the wrath had come on like a thousand storms. He'd been helpless to do anything but hold Oliver close and coo him to sleep. 

Just as he was helpless now. 

What would he do? If Selene decided they were too much trouble, or offered him up to her friends? As a party favor, or just as meat for pocket change. Would he run? Would he fight? Or would he roll over like the whore he was and let her use him? He knew she wouldn't, logically he knew, and yet the anxiety of it hovered over him like a gargoyle, clawed hands cold and sharp. 

He scooped Oliver into his arms, squeezing him as tightly as he dared. If she threatened Oliver, if she threatened his boy… 

He would run. 

He would run.

He would  _ run _ .

"I love you Papa," Oli whispered, burying his face in Eli's neck. 

He swallowed hard, pressing a kiss to Oliver's cheek. "I love you too, Sunshine," he murmured, and walked outside. 

As soon as he was on the front porch, he could see them. Selene had led the two women from the road to the stables, where they had dismounted their horses and were in the process of removing their tack. They were both tall, nearly as tall as Selene, both with varying shades of blond hair. The sound of their voices carried the brief distance, and he recognized Selene's among the midst. So quick and light, in her mother tongue. He'd only heard it on occasion, usually with a curse, or when she was slightly drunk deep into the night, when Oliver was fast asleep. Then he would look at him with a dazed smile that made his heart sing and stop all at the same time, and she would touch whisper  _ se'se _ with all the fondness in the world. He had no idea what it meant, and when he'd asked, Selene had gone bright pink, and simply told him it was a term of endearment. 

She gestured to them, and Eli took that as his hint to approach. Each step through the slush made his heart beat quicker, made his mouth go dryer, made his stomach fall lower. He wanted to turn tail and run, back up to the loft where they were safe. But Selene was smiling so bright, stars shining in her eyes. He couldn't have brought himself to do it even if they were backed by fire. 

"Eli, allow me to introduce my sisters-in-arms, Lucia and Acil. Lucia, Acil, this is Eli, my—" she hesitated, eyes running him up and down. "–companion," she said finally, "And his son, Oliver."

The two women regarded him curiously. He didn't miss the way their eyes slid from him, to Oliver, and then back again. He just held Oliver tighter, giving as deep a bow as he could with his son on his hip. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my Ladies," he said softly. 

The one with darker hair and green eyes, Lucia, said something in Selene's old language, something that made Selene snort. Then she glanced at him once more, saying, "I ask that we maintain this language, so that all parties involved may understand one another. Is that acceptable?"

"Of course," both women said, as if it was nothing at all. Then they all turned to look at him, and Eli froze. 

"Of—of course," he echoed, and it was more of a squeak than anything. "I—we thank you for your kindness, my Ladies." 

Then the attention slipped from them once more, as Selene directed them to the stables. The women quickly led their horses away, two giants beasts the same color and size as Butterfly. 

When they were gone, if only for that second, Eli couldn't help himself. "What did they say?" He blurted.

Selene raised a brow. "I beg your pardon?"

"When you—when you told them to speak so I would understand them, what did they say before that?" 

She blinked, and then inclined her head. He might have imagined it, but he could have sworn a gentle blush bloomed across her cheeks. 

She cleared her throat, glancing towards the stables. "Acil said you were pretty."

It wasn't what he was expecting. He wasn't sure what he  _ was _ expecting, but it wasn't that. "Oh," he breathed. 

"You have my apologies," Selene said with a rueful smile, "They know little of our… prior engagements. I will inform them that such comments are inappropriate."

"... no, you don't have to do that," Eli found himself saying. At Selene's look of question, he licked his lips. "I assume it was an… innocent comment? She wasn't implying anything… unsavory?" 

Selene blinked, then blinked again. Then her eyebrows shot up. "No," she said quickly, "No, of course not. They are not—crude, like that. They are respectful women. If they have any ill thoughts of you, which I do not expect they will, neither of us will ever hear a breath of them."

He nodded, forcing himself to shake the tension out of his shoulders. It would do him no good to remain tight and anxious the whole day, not to mention the two subsequent days of their stay. No, he needed to put his faith in Selene. She had taken them in, given them a home. She had only ever looked at him with affection, had only ever looked at Oliver with fond patience. He had no reason to doubt her words. And so he wouldn't. This could actually prove to be a positive, maybe. Maybe he could make some friends, or at least some acquaintances. 

"And they're not expecting me—us—to… serve?" He pressed after just a second. 

"I called you my companion, not my pet," Selene said, ever patient. "I ask for you to assist with the evening, but that does not mean you are to trail my steps like a whipped dog. Show the respect you would like in turn. I ask nothing more of you." 

Eli made himself take that to heart, forced the words to absorb into his flesh, so that he could trust them fully. 

Selene stepped closer, rested a hand on his shoulder. "Understand?" She prompted. 

And when Eli nodded, when he said, "Yes, Miss Selene," it didn't feel like a lie.

  
  
  
  


Seated in the living room of her cottage, Selene was fighting a losing battle. Listening to the debrief on all the turmoil following her exile should have proven wildly interesting, but all she could focus on was Oliver. Out of the corner of her eye, she could just barely make him out in the kitchen. Sat on the counter, fiddling with the ear of his push rabbit. He hadn't left his father's side for so much as a second since they'd returned inside. 

The poor thing had to be petrified. It was impossible not to remember the look on his face when she had walked into that tiny brothel room. Pure fright, as he backed up into Eli's legs. She had never been one to inspire fear, before. Had never enjoyed it. She had hoped they had cleared that obstacle, that she had kindled enough trust between the three of them for Eli to take her at her word. That was an unfair expectation. She would have to rectify it.

"Your mother sends her regards, by the way."

That caught her attention. 

"I'm sorry?" She said, narrowing her brow.

Acil smiled, just the barest curl of her lips. "She instructed me to assure you that she is well, and she hopes the same is true for you."

Something light and warm passing through her, Selene hid her shock by taking a drink of water. She hadn't been permitted time to even bid her mother farewell, exiled in the morning and escorted to the country's edge by the evening. Though she did not regret her exile, she'd always assumed… 

She didn't know what she assumed, exactly. Perhaps some shame, some sort of secondary exile. To be cast out by the queen herself was a damning insult beyond rectification. Her mother had never been cold or callous but… Selene had expected some contempt, at least. 

"Are you?" It was Lucia who asked. And it was Lucia that watched her every move, that noted every single time her eyes flickered to the kitchen, where Eli was working on preparing a fowl for the evening. 

Selene raised a brow. "Am I what?" 

"Are you well," said Lucia, a knowing gleam in her eye. 

_ Damn you. _

"I am," said Selene, as evenly as she could manage, "I miss the city, of course, but there is a sort of… peace, out here."

"Peace indeed," Lucia murmured, as she drank from her wine. 

Selene shot her withering glare, to which Lucia just snorted and wiped her mouth. "Where did you happen across that one?" 

_ Straight for the jugular. How unexpected.  _

Selene made a show of sighing, of setting her glass on the low table between them. The kitchen had fallen silent, and Oliver was nowhere to be seen.

"He needed a safe place to rest his head, and I was happy to oblige in favor of him managing the chores."

Acil smirked, but Selene held up her finger before her sister could make some inappropriate remark. 

"It is not like that," she said softly, "He was… in ill condition when I purchased him." 

The humor faded from their faces, Lucia sitting back in her seat. 

"He looks well kept," said Acil, voice gentling, "His boy too."

Her throat tightening, Selene licked her lips. "Gaining their trust is a… difficult endeavor. I cannot blame them, though. I think I may be the first person to treat either of them with a modicum of respect." 

"Always the noble lady," Lucia said, chuckling quietly. But her eyes had softened, her expression belying her concern. After a moment, she went on,"It is good to see you haven't spent these last weeks holed up in solitude. You deserve better than that."

"Lucia…" Selene began, but trailed off. She had no idea what to say in response. Lucia had been her second, the one to enforce her commands and the one she trusted with all her affairs. They'd been friends since their training together at the knights' academy. In her absence, Lucia had been demoted to just a common city guard. Selene didn't have it in her to ask what happened. 

It was just that moment when Eli stepped out of the kitchen, half hidden behind the doorway. "Miss Selene?"

Always with that _Miss_ _Selene._ Always with his eyes down, with his shoulders stiff and his spine locked. There was very little she would not give to return to those days in the brothel. Or rather, have Eli return to how he was then. Unafraid to enjoy small pleasures. Unafraid to laugh, to smile, to touch her hand and offer a tentative, teasing remark. 

She had no idea what she had done to break him of that, but Mother damn her, she would do anything to take it back. 

"Yes, Eli?" 

His eyes on the ground, Eli said, "May we be permitted to step outside? I would like to take care of the grounds while the bird rests." 

Inclining her head, Selene bit the tip of her tongue. She had not assigned any chores that day, intentionally so. Eli needed to acclimate to company, to trusting her. It had been her hope to push it just a little further today. And yet… she looked at Oliver, peeking out from behind his father's leg, watching her with glistening eyes. She looked at Eli, drawn taut like a bowstring, fit to snap if left under tension a second longer. 

"Very well," she accepted, "Please look in on my sisters' horses while you're out there."

The three of them sat in stiff silence as Eli and his son dressed for the weather, until Selene couldn't stand to watch them any longer. She focused on her glass, on the painted gold edge of the table, on the split skin of her knuckles. Anything but her boy, her boys, slipping from her home like two whipped dogs seeking escape. 

Lucia loosed a heaving sigh, rolling back her broad shoulders. "They're certainly a… wary pair." 

"I cannot blame them," Selene murmured again. Tracing her finger over the table, feeling the imperfections of the wood grain, she added, "Their prior… mistress. Eli has not told me much, but I have gathered that she was something of a… witch." 

"My instincts tell me that you're putting it mildly," said Lucia. 

Acil too was looking at her hands, her brows narrowed. "Women can be such cruel, vile creatures. I will never understand how someone could ever hurt a man they're meant to protect. Let alone a man and his child."

"Honorless sows, the lot of them," grunted Lucia. 

Selene shook her head, her fingers curling into light fists. The flicker of flame in her chest took her by surprise, even though it was so familiar, a warning hiss of embers. She grit her teeth, and had to close her eyes. Wrath was unbecoming of a woman, of a knight. And though she no longer held that title, though women were far less revered in this country, she had brought those values with her. And damn her if she was going to let them slip because of some wretched brothel madame. 

"Selene," came Acil's gentle, quiet voice. 

_ A woman was to be calm, honorable, and merciful.  _

Fruitless words, she had come to realize over the course of her life. Pretty words for an ugly world. Still she held them close, held them firm. She would be calm, she would be honorable, she would be merciful. It was her duty. Not to any crown or nation, not anymore. But to Eli, to Oliver… 

She would swear a thousand vows. Recite a thousand creeds. It was a responsibility she would take with her to the grave. She could not be any of those things if she held onto her anger. All it would do is poison any chance of trust between them. 

She needed to be calm. Steady. 

When she lifted her gaze to her sisters', she saw her own struggle reflected back at her, in the tight expressions on her sisters' faces. It was in their blood to protect the meek, the innocent. Those that could not protect themselves. To see anyone, but especially men and children, reduced to such shadows was enough to undo all of them. 

"To be angry is to be hateful, and a hateful woman cannot show true mercy," Selene recited softly. Lucia and Acil both closed their eyes, giving a slight nod in response. They both knew the creed as well as she did.

The name  _ Lydia _ drifted through her thoughts like ash carried on a breeze. Selene would kill her, if given the chance. But it would not be born from rage. It would be a mercy, ridding the world of a person so… inhuman. 

It would be a suitable punishment for her crimes. 

Selene blew out a breath and drank from her water, hoping the cool liquid would soothe the fire in her chest. 

Anger was a man's emotion, supposedly. Men were expected to be volatile, to be selfish, to be vengeful and petty. It was a woman's duty to be the antithesis, to instill proper values in their sons, brothers, husbands. Over the years, as she rose from a devout child to a disillusioned woman, she knew that such things were false. Her own mother had a temper akin to a dragon, fiery breath included. But the prejudices still existed, still weighed like a heavy anchor on her bones and soul. 

Anger came easy to her and Lucia both. Quick and sharp, the snap of lightning in an endless night. Her sister did not care all that much, but Selene… did not enjoy it. She did not enjoy the burn of fury. Whereas Lucia might see it was the warmth of a campfire, to Selene it was alcohol on an open wound. It had taken her many, many years to learn how to lose her fire. Not until she was properly knighted, did she understand the necessity of that creed. Not until she held the lives of hundreds in her bare hands, did she truly understand. 

No action could be made in hatred, in vengeance or cruelty. Such things only ever brought misery and bloodshed.

And so Selene held her rage between two hands, felt the warmth of it rumble through her, threatening to burn. And she let it go. 

Still, when she drank the last of her water, Selene swirled her empty cup and looked to her sisters. "Wine, anyone?" 

An hour or so later, the three of them were half way through a new bottle, with little sign of slowing down. For perhaps the third time, Selene climbed to her feet and went to the window, drawing back the curtain and peering outside. Eli was still where she last saw him, a smear of red in the pasture, with that little bundle on his hip, Butterfly, a splatter of grey, trotting nearby. It seemed her mare had a soft spot for meek, broken things just as she did.

Selene watched as she came to a halt at Eli's side, her trail flicking as she nosed at his hand. Likely begging for treats. From a distance, it was difficult to tell, but Selene thought he might have been smiling. 

Lucia reclined in her chair, arms crossed behind her head. "If you stay away much longer, I'm going to finish your glass for you," she threatened. Selene snorted, and returned to her spot at the table. 

With her coat discarded on the sofa, Acil looked smaller than she remembered. But then again, Selene had always been the biggest out of the three of them. With a slender frame and slight shoulders, younger than her and Lucia both, Acil looked every piece the delicate court lady. Especially with her light hair, wound into a neat plait down her spine, and her narrow amber eyes. The soft features, the flushed cheeks. She could have been a princess. Even her tunic, a sleeveless thing of bleached white linen embroidered with black thread, could have belonged among the most elite of women. No one would ever guess, based on appearance alone, the power she held, the knowledge and ability. No one would ever guess that Acil alone had saved more lives than Selene and Lucia had ever taken, combined or otherwise. It was only the eight pointed star tattooed on her shoulder that betrayed her true nature. A medic in the royal army. Sacred, treasured, more precious than any other knight this side of the dark sea. 

Medics were free to travel anywhere in Vymoth, under any circumstances, to any hold or keep, through plague or war. They were to be accepted and welcomed anywhere and by anyone. Even in times of war, when neighboring fiefs clambered over shreds of territory, medics flitted between both sides without trouble. The medics lived by their own creed, requiring them not to fall prey to any political or personal motive, their only duty being that to heal and mend. Only the most honorless, vile among them would ever dare strike down a medic. Though, from their time together, Selene knew several had tried to do just that.

She and Lucia had personally sent the majority of them to the underworld. 

Settling herself at the head of the table, Selene topped off her glass and drank deeply. It wasn't often that she indulged, but there was no better time than now. Anything to clear her mind of Eli's fear. 

"How are your brothers, Lucia" she asked quietly, "One of them was just coming of age when I left, yes?"

Lucia hummed, tapping her nail on the table. "Yes. Colin. I believe he's already been betrothed as well. It's been a few weeks since I was able to speak to them." 

Selene wrinkled her nose, echoing, "Betrothed? Your mother certainly wastes no time." She slid her gaze to Acil, a smirk curling on her lips. "I'm assuming not to you?"

Acil hissed, her cheeks flushing wine-red, "No, not to me, you witch."

"Oh, what a pity. You and Colin would have made a lovely pair," she teased. 

Lucia's grin was a wicked thing, her voice silken smooth as said, "You'll just have to wait for Lesin. He's a pretty enough boy, yes? Only a year or two left until Mother sells his hand as well."

"Silence, both of you," Acil ground out. "I shall never share my interests with you again."

Selene couldn't help but cackle, the alcohol a heady buzz just beneath her skin. Lucia passed the bottle around, all three of them taking more than they ought to. Perhaps it wasn't wise, not with Eli and Oliver so tensed, but gods, it was nice to just  _ laugh _ again. 

When the bottle came around a second time, Selene waved her hand. "Save it for dinner," she chuckled, "Any more, and I may say things I regret."

Lucia poured herself a small amount more, her glass two thirds of the way full, while Acil kept her own glass mostly empty. "What a tragedy that would be," Lucia crooned, "The great Selene of Vymoth, betraying her most protected secrets. What would we do with ourselves?"

"Oh, quiet yourself." Selene rolled her eyes, "As if there is anything I could tell you that you wouldn't know."

"Who knows. I am certain you've got some interesting stories we would enjoy," Lucia mused. 

To that, Selene held in her grimace. She wouldn't put it past her sisters to loosen her lips to learn her secrets. Not that she had very much to hide, but… she didn't imagine her story of purchasing Eli would go over well. Not necessarily for the brothel aspect, they had all indulged at one point or another, and yet… she doubted Eli would appreciate them knowing such a thing about him. It was his story to tell. 

Yes, there would be no more wine until the evening. 

Changing the subject, Selene asked, "What of you, Lucia."

She quirked a brow. "What of me?" 

"Do you have your gaze on anyone?" 

She felt the air grow tight as soon as the words left her lips. Lucia huffed, took another drink. "As if I have the time or money to keep a lover. Not after…" 

She trailed off, but Selene understood immediately. 

_ Not after you left. _

Not after her demotion. Not after losing her position, her wage, and subsequently her estates. 

Perhaps the wine had loosened her lips, allowed her inhibitions to slide freely against one another, but Selene couldn't help but ask, "Was it my fault?" 

_ Did I steal your rank? Did my shame bleed through unto you? Did they punish you in my stead?  _

Her eyes on the table, Lucia shook her head. "No. I suffer for my own actions." 

Selene flicked her eyes to Acil. Her sister met her gaze, mouth tight, and slowly shook her head. 

_ Very well. _

"Ask me something," Selene said, voice softening, "In turn for my misstep. Ask me something you wish to know, and I will tell you." 

"You made no misstep," Lucia grunted, offering a forced smile, "I encourage you to abandon any guilt you may carry. I carry my own burden." 

"Even so, ask me something. Anything you wish to know," Selene urged. 

Lucia made a show of humming, rocking her head from side to side, a flame snuffed out as though it had never been lit in the first place. "Your boy," Lucia said at length, "You fuck him?"

Acil choked on her wine, sputtering, "Lucia! You cannot just ask—"

"She said I could!" Lucia protested.

Selene didn't flush. She'd expected such a question. "No, I do not fuck him," she sighed, "Truly, that is what you wish to know? I offer you the chance to steal my secrets and you ask me if I fuck my boy?"

Lucia spread her hands before her. "I had to know! You look at him with such interest, I couldn't be sure."

"Not all of us lust after every pretty boy we see, Sister," Acil huffed. 

Lucia drank, gestured to Acil with her glass. "Not all of us live a chaste, boring life, but here you are."

With a scoff, Acil smacked her shoulder, "Consider yourself formally disinvited from my future wedding."

Lucia rolled her eyes, "We both know I'll be long dead before you ever manage to settle down." 

The wine sweet and cold as she drank, Selene grinned into her glass. 

And just like that, any and all tension died out entirely. 

  
  
  


Eli scrubbed at the dishes until they sparkled, setting them aside on the rack to dry. Out in the living room, Selene and her sisters were laughing like he'd never heard anyone laugh before. A pack of wild dogs, cackling amongst themselves. 

He'd put Oliver to bed an hour ago, and had spent most of the time since then cleaning up the mess from dinner. All things considered, it had gone smooth enough. The fowl he'd prepared, courtesy of a recipe Selene had explained to him the day before, had turned out better than he ever could have dreamed. He and his son were even permitted to eat at the table with the ladies. They'd largely been ignored save for Selene's occasional glance his way, not that Eli was complaining. 

The clock on the wall chimed 8, the sharp sound making him wince. This was Oliver's usual bedtime. They would have spent the last half hour getting ready, bathing, dressing in night clothes, and then he would have read his son a story. Not tonight, though. He'd put Oliver to bed almost immediately following their meal. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure why. Except that Selene and her sisters had only seemed to get drunker and drunker as dinner went by, the three of them ripping through too many bottles of wine for him not to worry. 

Selene had been drunk before, he tried to tell himself. More than once, he caught her in the kitchen nursing a bottle of something stronger than wine, and nothing happened. At most, she touched his face, brushing her thumb over his cheek, maybe even whispered something in her mother language. She never grabbed for him, never groped him, never so much as hinted at wanting more. He had no reason to fear her. 

And yet the sounds of their laughter grew louder and louder, their jokes more outrageous, their words more slurred. The entire dinner he watched glass after glass after glass vanish, his chest growing tighter by the second. If anything was going to happen… 

If anything was going to happen… he wouldn't fight, he wouldn't complain, or whine, or cry. Hell, he would welcome it. 

The thought came like a slap in the face, the force of it ringing in his ears. Eli shook his head, swallowing past the shame and scrubbing a bit of grease off of a ceramic dish. If Selene wanted something from him, wanted  _ more _ from him, he would welcome it. He was a whore, after all. It was all he knew. The cooking, the cleaning, even the child rearing, all came second. He knew pleasure best, and he would welcome the chance to prove that to his mistress. He would welcome the chance to prove that to her friends. He doubted she would hurt him; he didn't know her well, but he knew her well enough to take solace in the fact that she  _ would _ keep him from harm. At least, in a general sense.

If anything happened, it would just be sex. 

But if anything was going to happen, like hell was he just going to allow his son to bear witness to it. After Selene had emptied her third full glass, her lips stained berry red and her cheeks rosy, Eli resolved to put his son to bed as soon as would be possible. 

Thankfully, when he'd quietly asked to be excused, Selene hadn't protested, and neither had Oliver. 

_ Just sex _ , he repeated to himself, over and over and over. 

And yet, as he reached for another dish, his fingers trembled. His stomach churned, his heart racing.

_ Just sex. It's just sex. _

_ She won't hurt me. She would never hurt me. _

All too soon, the dishes were all finished. 

He looked over the dish rank, the plates and silverware, as if there was anything else he could do to bide time. But the kitchen had already been wiped spotless, the table cleared and reset. He glanced from the kitchen, down the hall to the stairway that would take him to the safety of the loft. If he could make it to the stairs, or even just the hall, he would be safe. He knew in some deep part of himself, if he could just get to the hallway, out of their sight, he would be safe. 

The only problem being the some ten feet between the kitchen and safety. 

Leaning back against the counter, Eli gripped the edge, digging his nails into the smooth stone. 

_ What the fuck are you so afraid of? Its just sex.  _

_ You probably have more experience than all of them combined. _

_ What are you so afraid of? _

He ran a hand down his side, brushing out a wrinkle in his tunic. If he thought about it, he could feel the scars marring all along his bare skin. Slashes, burns, tears and scratches. It was bad enough knowing that Oliver witnessed it everyday,  _ had _ witnessed it everyday. 

The thought of bearing those marks to these strange women, wholly illuminated by the candles and lamps with nowhere to hide, brought bile to the back of his throat. 

Eli covered his mouth, willing his stomach to settle. He ran his hand over the countertop, focusing on the stone, the cold tiles beneath his feet. 

"Its just sex," he told himself, voice barely a whisper, "She won't hurt me. She would never hurt me, it's just—just sex."

Again, he looked to the hallway, the dining table in the way. In the living room, one of them—he thought it might have been Lucia— made some sort of remark in another language that he couldn't understand, and all three of them howled with laughter. Like harpies. 

It was no use biding his time. If they wanted him, they would call for him at one point or another. But maybe if he could slip past…

Steeling himself, Eli took a deep breath, felt the air fill his lungs and chest, and then exhaled. 

_ It’s just sex. It’s only going to be sex. _

_ It’s just sex. Just sex. _

He made it all of three steps, not even halfway, before Selene’s bright, slurred voice caught up to him. 

“Eli, there you are,” she cooed, and Eli flinched. She barely sounded like herself. 

_ There it is. _

Ignoring the cold pit in his stomach, Eli forced himself to smile, forced himself to turn. “Yes, Miss Selene?” 

Yet another glass of wine in hand, Selene gestured for him to come close. “My sisters wish to get to know you better.”

For a long, agonizing second, it was as though his feet were rooted to the floor. He couldn’t have taken a step if he tried.

Selene hiccuped, covering her mouth with her hand, and beckoned him once more. “Come,  _ Se’se, _ they do not bite.”

_ Se’se. _ He couldn’t help the way his face burned red, especially when Lucia raised an eyebrow. For all he knew,  _ se’se  _ could very well mean  _ the filthy whore that steals my food. _

Probably not, but he wished he knew anyways.

Finally, he managed to pry his feet from the ground. Every single step made in their direction seemed to take an eternity time stretching and slowing as he crossed the threshold from the dining room to the living space. And then he was before them, the low drink table the only barrier between him and three hungry lionesses. 

Going to his knees, Eli straightened his back, kept his head high and his eyes down. In the most pleasant voice he could manage, he said, “How may I be of service, my Ladies?”

Under her breath, Lucia snorted and took a drink. Instantly, Eli realized she might not be as drunk as he thought she was. 

“He’s so pretty,” Acil murmured. She too was red in the face, a bit of her light hair escaping her braid and framing her face. Distantly, Eli noticed she was pretty as well. Pretty enough that Lydia would have drooled over the thought of holding her contract. 

Selene shushed, giving her sister an empathic wave. “None of that,” she scolded, each word seeming to topple and break before she managed to finish it, “I did not call him over so you could gawk at him. Ask your questions.”

Acil huffed, took another drink from her glass. “I just wanted to ask, how did you end up with your boy?”

The question struck him like a splash of cold water, his eyes bugging wide. 

“Acil!” spat Selene, swatting at her leg, “That is not--”

“I’m just curious--”

“Eli, you do  _ not _ have to answer that--”

“It’s okay,” he rasped, even as some part of him seemed to break and split apart. “It’s-- fine. You are honorable women, I’m only surprised no one has asked sooner. But he’s-- he’s mine, if you were worried. Not like a-- protege, or something.”

Lucia choked on her drink, quickly setting the glass aside. “No, no, that’s most certainly not what she meant. Whether or not the boy is yours was never under any speculation.”

“Of course not,” Acil blurted, and to his surprise, she pressed a hand to her heart, “Please forgive me, I never meant to imply anything unpleasant. I was just curious, I never meant to cause you any discomfort.”

Eli blinked, his brow narrowing. “It’s… it’s fine,” he said again, and forced himself to add, “Truly. I take no offense.”

Certainly not when that’s what Oliver had almost become. 

So he cleared his throat, and said, “I had a… customer, one of my regulars--”

“Customer?” echoed Lucia, aghast.

Selene swore, and at Eli’s look of question, she swallowed, coughed, “I had not mentioned to them the specifics of how you... came into my care.”

“... Oh,” he said lamely, shame burning hotter than any brand in his chest. Of course she hadn’t. A bit helpless, Eli swallowed hard, “I… I’m sorry. I know it’s… dirty, but-- but I don’t do that anymore, I promise.” 

Lucia’s eyes softened, “Oh, Honey…” 

To Acil, he said, “I had a customer forget to take a tonic after coming to see me. I didn’t see her for a good while, not until the baby was weaned, and she abandoned him in my care. My madame was kind enough to let me take him in…” he thought of Lydia once more, of her cold, icy eyes. “Though now that I say that aloud, I realize she saw my boy as an investment, and not a child.”

“My taking him was a matter of urgency. He was to be sold to the first buyer, likely one that would kill him before too long, and the boy was to grow up in his wake,” Selene said quietly. And though her words still seemed to blend into one another, her eyes weren’t quite as glassy as he first thought, her face only slightly flushed compared to the deep flush of Acil’s. 

“I am so sorry, Eli,” said Acil again, her hand still on her chest, over her heart, “I don’t know what came over me. I wasn’t even meaning to ask that, it just slipped out.”

“Please, don’t waste your apologies on me, my lady,” Eli managed, offering her what he hoped was a smile. “I am here to serve. I will answer any questions you have for me.”

From there, things were significantly easier to handle. Acil seemed more than willing to steer entirely away from any and all topics related to his past life, which he greatly appreciated. She only asked about his tasks around the house, what Oliver thought of the house, and if Selene was treating him well. That question had been asked by Lucia, accompanied by a wink. 

“Of course she does,” Eli said, confused by the question. “She treats me with far more respect than I could ever deserve. I’m honored to serve her in any way I can.”

More questions came, and Eli was surprised by how good natured they were. Whether or not his hair was natural, if he enjoyed reading or drawing, if he got along with Butterfly. And though he still had to clench his fists to keep his fingers from trembling, he found he was not quite so anxious by the end. As the time passed, he even managed to pull out some of his old, dusty charm, and earned a few laughs from both the women. 

And yet every once in a while, he couldn’t help but glance at Selene, silent in her palace at the couch. She wasn’t looking at him, her eyes staring at some place in the middle distance, wine glass abandoned on the table before her. She hadn’t told them for a reason, of course. It was likely she would rather forget he’d ever been anything but her  _ companion _ . No one wanted a houseguest that spent most of their life sucking cocks and getting the shit beat out of them. Perhaps he was lucky her sisters didn’t seem as disgusted as he thought they should be.

Still, he would have to apologize later. 

When the clock chimed ten and Acil could barely keep her eyes open, Lucia rose to her feet and stretched out her back. “I think that is enough of this for the night. If we wait any longer, I may have to carry Acil out over my shoulder.”

At the sound of her name, Acil hummed, and gave her sister a bitter glare. “Not a chance.”

Selene rose to her feet in a single motion, loosing a long breath. “Of course, you two must be tired from the journey. Forgive me for keeping you so long. Eli, please show them to the loft.”

His shoulders tensing, Eli looked at her with wide eyes. “The loft, Miss?” he echoed, panic filling his stomach like shards of glass.

_ Oli’s up there, where do I put him?  _

_ Where do I go?  _

_ Is she going to make us sleep on the floor? _

_ Is she going to make us sleep outside? _

_ Is this because I told them I was a whore? _

_ Please, please, Oli can sleep on the couch, or a blanket on the floor, just let him stay inside.  _

_ Please, please, please-- _

Before he could even think far enough to throw himself at her feet and beg, Selene breathed, “The loft. Above the barn, yes?”

As if cut free from his puppeteer, Eli let himself sag. 

“Of course, Miss Selene,” he said and pushed himself to his feet, cursing himself the entire time. Of  _ course _ she meant the barn loft. He’d prepared it for company two days prior. 

Gods, he was a fucking moron. 

Eli pulled on his shoes and led the way out onto the porch, taking the oil lamp down from its place next to the door while Selene bid goodnight to her sisters. Lucia still needed to support most of Acil’s weight, an arm around her middle, but she didn’t seem to be struggling with it. 

The trek to the barn was an easy one, the path already well worn into his mind. As they walked around to the back, the lantern illuminating the snow in golden light, Lucia said, “I hope you can forgive my sister for her unpleasant question, earlier. She and Selene both struggle to hold their booze once they get going.”

Unsure what to say, Eli only cleared his throat, “Think nothing of it, my Lady. I know she meant nothing by it.”

“Still,” Lucia breathed, adjusting her grip on Acil’s waist as the woman teetered on her feet, barely awake. “I wish I had been able to prevent her from ambushing you like that. She’s the best of us, I promise you that.”

At the barn’s back end, they walked up the staircase to the little landing. From his pocket, Eli drew the key from his pocket and unlocked the loft’s door, the cold brass of the handle chilled enough to burn.

“She really does take care of me. Selene, I mean,” he said, feeling the need to say it to the air, “Really. If not for her, I would likely be dead by now. And Oliver…”

Lucia lowered her eyes, and Eli knew he didn’t have to go on. Leaving the lantern on the railing, Eli opened the door so Lucia could deposit her sister on the single wide bed against the wall.

“There’s a washroom in the corner, and a striker should be on the table for the lanterns, “ he told her. Then, after a long beat, he decided to say, “If there is any way I may be of further service, my lady?”

From her huff, Eli knew she understood his offer. Still, Lucia only shook her head, as she pulled the shoes from Acil’s feet and tucked her beneath the covers. “Let me bring our things up from the saddle bags, and then I can walk you back to the house.”

“... I beg your pardon?” Eli breathed, tilting his head. 

“Ah, forgive me,” Lucia said, placing a hand over her heart as she straightened up, “In my country, it is customary for a woman to ensure that a lone man makes it home safe, especially at night. I meant no offense.”

“Oh! None taken,” he said quickly, face heating. “Um-- I would hate to be an inconvenience, my Lady. I can make it back just fine without you troubling yourself.”

In the low light, he could see the corners of her lips curl into a grin. “It’s my duty as a Lady, Eli. It would be my honor.”

“O-Okay,” he swallowed. At his direction, Lucia slid down the ladder leading from the loft to the barn’s main space, and returned a short while later with a few bags slung over her shoulder. She set them on the table near the sole window, then gestured to the door.

“After you, Eli.”

Back down the stairs they went, Eli brushing his hair from his eyes. Though it was strange, being escorted, the path from the barn to the house had always made him just a little nervous. He still wasn’t used to all the open space and wilderness, especially at night. 

“My lady,” he began, stopping when they were perhaps halfway, “May I ask you a question.”

“By all means. We interrogated you plenty this evening, it is only fair.”

He gnawed at the inside of his cheek, unable to meet Lucia’s gaze. “That… what she calls me…  _ Se’se.  _ May I ask what it means?”

Lucia inclined her head, her smirk little more than a flash of teeth in the darkness. “I figured she would not have told you. It is a-- slang term. A bastardization of a longer idiom.”

“So… it’s something unpleasant, then?” he asked, shoulders sagging.

“On the contrary,” snorted Lucia, “While my understanding of this language is better than Selene’s, it is not perfect. I believe it roughly translates to… something important. Something of great value, that one covets. I don’t know if there is a single word for it in your language, my apologies.”

_ Something of great value, that one covets. _

“Precious,” he whispered, as it struck him, “She… She’s calling me precious.”

Lucia hummed, giving him a pat on the back. “She cares for you, Eli. I know she may seem intimidating, especially if you do not know her well, but I see it in her eyes whenever she looks at you.”

His mouth going dry, Eli fumbled for his words. “I-I’m only a servant, my lady. She’s-- she’s beyond kind, and I adore her for it, but I am only her-- her servant.”

“Yes yes,” Lucia waved away his words with a dismissive sweep of her hand, “Whatever you say. I’m sure she would call any given servant that,  _ Se’se.” _

Unable to think of what to say in response, Eli walked the rest of the way to the porch, and replaced the lantern next to the door. “Are you sure you’ll be able to find your way back?” he asked. 

Lucia raised a brow at him from the base of the steps, giving something of a conciliatory laugh. “Your concern is appreciated, but yes, I can find my way easily enough. I wish you a goodnight and a restful sleep, Eli.” She bowed, just the barest bend at the waist, before she turned on a heel and strode off into the night. 

He could only stand there for a moment, the cold air little more than a kiss across his cheeks and nose. 

_ She’s been calling me Precious this whole time, and I had no idea. _

He released a breath he hadn’t realized he’s been holding in, rubbing his hands down his face. 

_ Precious. _

_ Precious. _

He stepped back into the house, the rush of heat earning a sigh from him as he placed his shoes on the rack, and locked the door behind him. Seated on the couch, Selene stared at the low fire crackling away in the fireplace. Lips still stained a berry red. 

_ She cares for you, Eli  _

Lucia's words echoed in his head, buzzing like angry bees. 

"Miss?" He tried. Her gaze slipped to him, then back to the fire. 

Slowly, he padded across the wood floor to kneel at her side. Generally, Selene seemed to prefer he keep standing, but he always felt safest on the ground. "I'm sorry about earlier," he said, eyes on her feet, "I didn't know you hadn't told them. If I had known you would want to keep it a secret--"

Selene straightened, letting out a sharp breath. "Eli, no. It was not my intention to hide it. That is not the reason I kept it from them."

"Oh," he said, a bit dully.

"I chose not to tell them because I did not think you would appreciate my telling your story to any ear available," she went on, voice sharp enough that the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. "I wished to give you the choice to divulge those details should you choose to do so. Unfortunately, Acil holds her alcohol even worse than I do. I have no idea why she thought it right to question you about your boy." 

"I'm not… not offended, Miss Selene," Eli swallowed, hating the way his voice wavered. He'd seen her upset so few times. It always managed to knock the wind out of him. "She was drunk. She didn't mean anything by it."

"... no, she did not," Selene agreed at length, "And I am certain she will apologize profusely tomorrow, if she remembers. All the same, her behavior was inappropriate. I wish that had not been your first experience with her."

Eli chose to keep quiet, hands fidgeting on his thighs. It was bizarre, having someone be angry… on his behalf. Not at him, not because of him, but  _ for _ him. 

At last, Selene rose to her feet and gestured for him to do the same. "Come. We should get to bed, it is far too late."

Eli obeyed and made to head down the hall, eager to finally get some rest. But Selene stumbled a step, latching onto his arm to keep from hitting the ground.

She growled something in her other language, quickly letting go and sinking onto the couch. Voice rasping, she said, "My apologies, Eli. It seems I am still— still far more inebriated than I ought to be."

"Let me help you, Miss," he found himself saying, as he offered her his arm. 

She gave him a look that was positively venomous, but it vanished before he could even grow frightened. "I can make it to my room on my own,  _ Se'se _ , _ " _ she breathed, and then shook her head as if to clear it. "You need not trouble yourself with me."

There it was again. 

_ Precious.  _

It made his heart skip, made his stomach flutter. 

"Please, Miss?" He pressed, "It'll be easier for everyone." 

Wiping at her face, Selene took his arm and leveraged herself to her feet. The weight of her, even that bare glimpse of it… she could have been hewn from pure stone. 

They made it to her bedroom with slow steps, Selene half clinging to him, half slumped against the wall. It was better than her slipping and hurting herself. He'd never be able to live with himself if he just let her be, and she fell and struck her head. 

He'd only been into her bedroom a few times, so it was still relatively foreign to him as he led her to the bed.

"Thank you, Eli," Selene sighed. She dropped onto the mattress like a leaden statue, the wood frame groaning. "Truly. You are too kind to me."

"Nonsense," he chided, "I'm here to serve you. I only wish you would let me do something like this more often" 

She sat up once more, fumbling with the laces of her boots. Eli only gestured for her to cease before he stepped in, unlacing them and setting them in a neat line by the closet. 

"You must think me a fool," Selene said through her teeth, as she pressed her hands to her face, "I am a knight, won by my own merit, and I cannot handle a bit of drinking." 

"I think it was a little more than 'a bit', Miss. You're too hard on yourself," Eli said, gently teasing. To his surprise, Selene gave him a small grin. It made her look younger. Even in the dim light, it made her face seem warmer, less taut. He wished she smiled more often.

He wished he gave her more reasons to smile.

A moment of silence stretched between them, Eli hovering for a moment. Trying to think of something to say. Trying to maybe find some way to excuse himself. Or maybe now was a good time to at least mention he had offered himself to Lucia, lest Selene be displeased by that knowledge tomorrow.

Selene looked at him then, seeming barely awake, and quietly asked, "Stay with me?" Before Eli could respond, her eyes went wide, and she swore. "I truly must have lost my mind. Disregard that, Eli. You may-- you may go to bed."

He swallowed, glancing around the small space. "I… I will stay if you wish it, Miss Selene."

"I would never order you to do something that would upset you," she said, shaking her head, "Forgive me. I do not know what has gotten into me tonight." 

"It wouldn't make me uncomfortable," Eli said, and was only somewhat surprised to find it to be the truth. "Besides," he added with a wry smile, "It wouldn't be the first time we've shared a bed."

Selene didn't smile, but after a moment, she did scoot to the far side of the bed. Eli took the invitation to sit on the edge of the mattress. He pulled the pins from his hair, set them on the bedside table, and combed his fingers through it. Grimacing at the length, he tossed it over his shoulder. It was far longer than he had ever kept it before. But… he didn't want to cut it, not yet. Too many things had changed as of late. His hair seemed like something he would rather keep the same, for now.

The covers cold to the touch, Eli slid beneath and settled on his back, pillowed his arms beneath his head.

"I am sorry, for requesting this of you," Selene said to the dark. "I… I grew used to sleeping around others. I slept in the dormitory with my sisters more often than I did at my own estate. I find it difficult to sleep on my own, sometimes. Usually when I'm drunk." 

"You don't need to explain yourself," Eli whispered, "I am here to serve. You've shown me more consideration than I've ever even seen. I am… more than happy to supply you with something of comfort." 

The moon lit her face in silhouette, her lips shining silver as she smiled, soft and faint. 

"You do not have to stay for long," she whispered, "Just until I doze. Then you can go as you please."

Rolling onto his side to face her, Eli offered his hand. Her touch was warm as she took it, hesitating as though she expected him to withdraw suddenly. In the dark, it was so much easier to act… confident. He knew the dark, had lived in it for years. Or perhaps it was just because she was drunk, or because she was looking at him with those eyes that sparkled like crystal. After a moment, he asked, "Does this mean you've been struggling to sleep since we arrived?"

Selene snorted, wiped at her face with her free hand. "It comes and goes. When it rains, or snows, it is easier. But when it is quiet… then I may struggle. Sometimes I am simply too tired."

"I'm sorry," Eli rasped, "I wish you had said something sooner."

"I figured you had enough of sharing my bed," she sighed, "I could not stand to drag you away from your boy. Not when you both looked at me like I was a fox in the henhouse." 

Guilt settled in his stomach, his throat growing tight. "I'm happy to serve you, Miss. Truly."

Selene shook her head, but didn't say anything further. 

Gnawing on his lip, Eli squeezed her hand again. "Goodnight, Miss." 

In a voice softer than midnight wind, Selene murmured, "Goodnight, Eli."

She fell silent, then. Eli listened as her breathing softened, evened out. And though his son slept upstairs, though this bed belonged to his mistress, and every part of him knew he should be afraid, he wasn't. There was something… peaceful about it. Sharing the bed with someone else other than his son. The subtle heat of her body across the bed, the thrum of her heartbeat through the bed.

No wonder she struggled to fall asleep. If he were forced to spend the night alone, without her or his son? He'd likely be in the same boat. 

They would need to rectify this. If she was too kind to ask for his companionship, he would have to find some way to provide her with it regardless. 

Brushing his thumb over her knuckles, Eli brought her hand to his lips, pressed a light kiss to her fingers. He would make this better. He could be what she needed. But… tomorrow. 

He would worry about that tomorrow. Eli let his eyes drift shut, listening to the murmur of the wind outside, and the hum of Selene's breathing.

He fell asleep before he could even think about leaving. 

  
  
  



End file.
